


ascended

by queenlannister



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, I just love them, One Shot, PHEW - Freeform, i've had this on my laptop for like four years and i totally forgot i had this account until today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenlannister/pseuds/queenlannister
Summary: josh & donna have to stay late at work; donna realizes things.
Relationships: Josh Lyman & Donna Moss, Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Kudos: 38





	ascended

donna can’t get air in her lungs. josh is sitting across from her and she can’t get air in her lungs. they’re poring over papers and it’s 11:23 p.m. and the takeout they ordered three hours prior was now cold. and she can’t get air in her lungs, because josh – annoying, gorgeous, demanding josh just passed her a congressional report and their hands touched and she felt butterflies. butterflies! as if she was 16 in love with her lab partner. her heart is in her throat and she clears it once, twice. 

“is everything okay?” josh says, and her heart speeds up even more. she needs a drink, or six uninterrupted hours of sleep, or for josh to touch her hand again. 

“um, yeah. everything’s fine. i’m gonna go get some water, do you want anything?” she says. her voice sounds like paper. 

“no, i’m good,” he mumbles, and the feeling in the pit of her stomach deepens. _oh god oh god oh god._ she stands and stumbles her way out of the room, leading herself to the bathroom. her head is spinning. she still can’t get any air in her lungs. staring at herself in the mirror, she tries to form a single coherent thought. _ok. ok. my name is donnatella moss. i am 24 years old. i am the deputy deputy chief of staff. i’m from madison, wisconsin. i have a stupid crush on my stupid boss. oh god. oh god. ok. i, donnatella moss, 24, native of wisconsin, employee of the bartlett white house, have a stupid dumb crush. this is fine! i’ve had stupid dumb crushes before. like tom, that guy who delivered my pizza once. i never saw him again but he was dreamy! ok. fuck. i can’t have a crush on my boss! it’s fine ok i’ll just tell josh the chinese didn’t settle well and i’ll go home and watch an episode of seinfeld and then i’ll just sleep and it’ll be over tomorrow. i just haven’t slept well in a couple of weeks. it’s really nothing. ok. it’s fine._

except it’s not okay. because she knows herself and she’ll pine over the idea of josh for months, picture a stupid dumb life with him in coastal massachusetts, with a boat and lobster and a nice big porch and his hand settled comfortably in hers. _fuck. there i go._ she wipes her sweaty hands on her skirt and gives herself a one over. _i’ll live. people have survived crushes on their bosses before._ she tucks her hair behind her ear and walks back to the room, excuse armed. but then she walks in and josh is looking adorably exhausted and her heart drops. she needs to leave, and fast. 

“josh, i don’t…i don’t feel too good. i’m gonna go head home,” she says, thinking quick, and it’s the first time she has ever felt so unsure in front of him. the girl who basically walked into his office and declared herself his assistant, now apprehensive. his forehead creases in half.

“are you o.k.?

“it must’ve been the food or something. don’t worry about it.”

he stands from behind his desk. donna wants to disappear into tiny individual molecules. his shirt is rumpled and the concerned look on his face makes her temporarily lose feeling in her toes. 

“do you want me to take you home?” he says and her head starts swimming. she knows she should say no, she knows that the second they walk outside and the cold air hits them she might faint or maybe even float away. but still she nods. 

he grabs his coat and somehow she is grabbing hers, somehow he is saying something about her staying home until this passes, about how he can finish reading it later, about how she shouldn’t worry, but she is just staring up at him in blankness. her heart aches. they rush out and the air hits her. she feels light and breathes in deep. she can’t think straight; the frigid blast of wind hits her head directly and she wants to bend into him. she tries focusing on the crunch of the snow under her shoes, or on the clouds her breath is forming, but josh is sweeping her into the subway and the hot stale air makes her woozy again. 

“do you take the red line?”

everything he says sounds underwater. she’s wondering how she got here, how this morning she was teasing him about some inane thing and now she couldn’t even look at him without gong on some spiral. 

“huh?” 

“the red line. you live in adams morgan, right?”

she swallows hard and nods and then they’re descending the stairs and she notices how somehow her hand is in his. she feels like she might topple over with the next train that pulls in. this all seems absolutely bizarre. this was josh! josh, who worked her ridiculous hours and always had a ridiculous retort and who was now standing squarely next to her, strong and careful. a couple stands across from them on the other platform, leaning into each other and constantly coming back for another kiss. donna wants to cry. _this isn’t happening._ the train screeches in and stops in front of them, and josh leads her into the compartment. the noise in her ears is so so loud. 

and then she’s at her apartment and josh is behind her and she’s shaking as she gets her keys. nothing around her is clear. josh follows her inside to her living room, embarrassingly messy.

“go lay down. i’ll get you some alka seltzer.”

“d-don’t worry about it. you can go home.”

“don’t be ridiculous, donna. go lay down.”

so she does, slipping out of her coat and just dropping it on the ground, followed by her scarf and her jacket. she’s in bed and josh is practically ready to nurse her to health, even though she had implied that she was either gonna shit herself or puke everywhere. she tried to ground herself but kept snapping out at the sound of him in her kitchen—the plop of the alka seltzer into the water, the slamming shut of a cabinet door, the scrape of his shoes against the floor. this all feels like a fever dream. at this point she wouldn’t be surprised if the food really had thrown her into a funk. maybe if she concentrates enough she could hallucinate jfk jr into her bed. but instead josh walks in, holding a fizzy glass of water, and she feels terrible for lying in the first place but right now her stomach is doing jumping jacks and it can’t hurt. he hands her the glass and sits at the edge of the bed. 

“so general tso’s chicken is a no from now on,” he says. she giggles and her face is hot and she takes three quick gulps of water, meeting his gaze from above the edge of the glass. 

“i’d think so.”

“anyone would get nauseous when confronted by so many budget numbers.” 

“it really was a lot,” she says, and she feels the pressure on her head and chest subsiding. it feels like ages since she and josh were sitting at a desk going over stacks and stacks of papers. now he was barefoot at the edge of the bed, head hanging down, waiting for someone to say something, and she was back where she had been an hour ago. 

“you can go, if you want. i’ll see you tomorrow,” donna says. he shakes his head. 

“donna.” 

“josh.” 

“donna, i just feel bad,” he says, exasperated. “this morning you said you wanted to leave on time and here i am, making you stay late and buying chinese food that gives you the sweats. the least i can do is stay until you’re sure you won’t projectile vomit all over your apartment.” 

she sighs. “it’s not your fault.”

“it’s not my f—what do you mean?” 

“i mean, it’s not your fault.”

“i mean, i’d say it’s congress’s fault but at some level or another, it is my fault,” he says. she’s back to wanting to evaporate. her cheeks are burning. 

“i just…i’m fine. i was just…overwhelmed?”

“overwhelmed?” 

“yeah- i’ve had a long week and everything is kinda weird and the language on those forms was just so much.” 

she’s trying to let him know that she’s ok without fully saying she lied, but the look upon his face let her know he wasn’t following. she feels like she’s going to careen off the edge of a cliff. this morning they’d had shared an early breakfast and she told him about a mediocre date she had had two days ago, and now here she was. at the edge of a cliff. 

“is everything okay?” he asks, perplexed. 

she breathes deep. the edge of a cliff. about to tumble down. 

“no, josh, i’m not sure it is.”

at some point it had to come to this. four years ago she left her life behind to do great things, to help people, to join some big, blank, expansive movement, nothing more than an idea. she left her life and returned to it for one last gasp of air, before deciding to plunge down, cold. her focus went from a blank life of rusticity to a rush of constant emotion, of parallels drawn and taken back, all with josh at the center. sure—bartlet for america and all that—but it was josh, with his efficiency, and his pragmatism, and his big-hearted liberalism! josh was the one who she’d follow to the ends of the earth. josh was the one she’d run the red lights for. 

she hears him take a deep breath and time stops. it’s now or never. the second is infinite. 

“josh, this is the hardest thing i’ve ever said. but i think if i don’t say this right about now it might be like this for weeks and, frankly, alka seltzer makes my mouth taste like metal for hours.”

he’s about to speak again and she stops him, aware that she was two seconds off from a wild session of verbal diarrhea. 

“i met you almost 5 years ago and you were instantly the most compelling person i’ve ever known. sure, i’m from very very rural wisconsin and the most compelling person i knew before you was probably my gen ed philosophy professor whose spit somehow reached the fifth row of the auditorium. but i’ve spent years since here in d.c. and you still are the most compelling person i’ve ever met.”

“donna,” he breathes, still unsure. 

“josh, let me get this out,” she says, instantly regretting the roughness in her tone. “i know it may not seem like much. and i know i’m not particularly worldly, and i feel like a dumb, stupid, 20 year old intern right now. but i just have to say this, because i think i’ve realized something. and you need to know.” 

his eyelids are lowered as his hand lands on her leg. her heart skips once, twice. 

“donna…” 

all he can do is repeat her name. donna feels lightheaded again; she’s glad she on her bed, safe, secure. 

“i don’t know if i love you. that’s a big word. but i do know that i would feel foolish and stupid and ridiculous if i didn’t tell you that i…well…i—” 

josh leans in and kisses her – full, deep, longing, caring. he knew. donna melts. she’s visibly shaking – her hands want to hold him, to be buried in his hair, to run up and down his back, but she can’t steady herself. she is both relieved and encumbered; full of emotion and unable to tear herself away from the thoughts of the future, of where to go from here that are running through her head. 

but it didn’t matter. all that mattered was the here, the now, the fulfillment and the joy and the rush of the blood running through her veins. who cared if anything happened? who cared what tomorrow looked like? all that mattered was that she was donnatella moss, 24, native of wisconsin, employee of the bartlett white house, and that josh lyman, her boss, her crush, was kissing her with all the love in the world. that was enough. that was all she needed.


End file.
